


BYOB

by spinner_atropos



Category: The Tick (TV 2017)
Genre: Alcohol, Bonding, Destiny, Drunk Texting, F/M, In Vino Veritas, Missing Scene, Pre-Relationship, Tacos, Telling the truth, i'm not drunk you're drunk, s02e01 Lesson One: Think Quick!, traumatic origin story, what's a little breaking and entering between friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22200097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinner_atropos/pseuds/spinner_atropos
Summary: "You show up in my apartment with a bottle of whiskey, I'm considering it a hostess gift."
Relationships: Dorothy "Dot" Everest & Overkill, Dorothy "Dot" Everest/Overkill
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13





	1. preface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dot is nice to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first fic with text messages in! I had my own websites back in the '90s and always coded them by hand, so HTML isn't completely foreign (though I gave up around when stylesheets started coming in), but css is, so a big ol' thank you to everyone here at AO3 who posted those tutorials to make textfics possible.

Overkill  
  
no one understands me  
  
Are you drunk? It's barely noon.  
  
i hate the tick  
  
Where are you? Do I need to call you an Uber?  
  
no  
  
dot is nice to me  
  
Yes, she is.  
  
shes so pretty :( :( :(  
  
Definitely drunk. Not going to do anything stupid, are we?  
  
She's probably at work like the responsible adult she is.  
  
looks like it  
  
...WHERE ARE YOU?  
  
gotta go  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She really needed to stop talking.

Honestly, Dot thought to herself as she downed a healthy slug of whiskey, deciding to sit down and drink with the unstable, heavily-armed psycho who'd broken into her apartment wasn't really any _more_ weird than anything else that had happened so far today.

As unstable, heavily-armed psychos went, she kind of liked this one. He'd even brought his own booze. (She wasn't going to ask why he'd chosen her place for his drinking, or how he knew where she lived, but maybe the fact that he showed up today of all days meant there was something to this Destiny thing Tick was always talking about.) His occasional antisocial behavior seemed to be more because he was undersocialized rather than an actual asshole. He was also kind of hot, if she were being honest with herself.

"I think the superhero thing is agreeing with Arthur," she said. "He's doing better now than he has in a long time. I _think_ I'm okay with him quitting his day job, but I'm not sure." She contemplated this. "I'm not so sure about _my_ day job right now. I always knew it was a little shady, but now the Pyramid Gang thing is really awkward." She contemplated some more. "Anyway, I'm not sure I know who _I_ am right now."

"You're becoming who you should've been all along."

She heard Tick's voice in her memory. _"What if you're awesome too, but you just don't know it yet?"_ This was all starting to feel very deep. She decided to change the subject. "So what's your story?" she asked. "I assume you don't just wake up as Overkill some morning."

He stared at the coffee table for what felt like a reeeeeeeeeally long time. "I don't remember my family." His tone was flat, more than his usual monotone, and she belatedly realized that maybe the question wasn't one she had the right to ask yet.

~~~~

When he finished, her ears were ringing in a way that wasn't related to the alcohol. She felt simultaneously much too sober and much too drunk to deal with this. Her life. _Arthur's_ life.

"Wow," slipped out before she could stop it. Smooth, Dot. She glanced over at Overkill, who was looking intently at the coffee table again. "It's not your fault." He didn't move. "You got screwed." She cringed. Dammit, she should stop talking, but he looked so miserable. "You know what I mean. You didn't do it." No visible reaction. "But I guess that's easy to say when it wasn't you." Silence. "This is too heavy to deal with on an empty stomach. Are you hungry? I need something to eat." Going to the kitchen and rifling through the menu drawer was an excuse to get up and move, give him space, give herself space. What delivered at whatever ungodly hour this was? "It looks like our choices are tacos, Chinese, pizza, and Thai." When she came back he was looking at her oddly. "Any opinions?"

"No." His expression was back to guardedly neutral. "I can leave if you want me to."

"No, it's fine, it's just--going to take a little bit for me to work through, but you don't have to leave." Tacos sounded good, small and easier to deal with at too-early-o'clock than pizza. She pulled up the delivery app. "Look, in the future, if I ask you something too personal, just tell me to fuck off."

"You deserved to know."

"Does Arthur know?"

"Not that part. He figured out that I was Straight Shooter."

"That's Arthur for you." He could have mentioned that little tidbit to her at some point, but she got the idea that he still didn't like Overkill and liked her associating with him even less. Well, tough shit. She fiddled with the app for a few extra seconds before finalizing the order, not only killing time but trying to make sure she wasn't accidentally ordering two hundred tacos or something. "Are you going to tell him?"

"Eventually. I guess."

"I can if you want."

"No, it needs to be me."

She nodded and checked the bottles on the coffee table. "Looks like we're out."

"You drank all my whiskey."  
  
"No, I drank _my share_ of what was _still left_ when I got home. You show up in my apartment with a bottle of whiskey, I'm considering it a hostess gift."

They sat in silence for a while. Dot tried to absorb everything. That explained the whole scene at the radio station. She had a flash of anger on his behalf. "That _bitch_." He raised his eyebrows at her. "Lint." He snorted.

The arrival of dinner was another welcome distraction; she unpacked the bag onto the kitchen counter. Overkill seemed reluctant. "Just take some damn tacos," she said, frustrated. "Military-grade whatever and sheer stubbornness don't replace the need for food, you might as well not end up hung over _and_ hungry."

"I don't get hangovers," he said calmly, but he took some tacos.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you don't. Hot sauce?"

"Sure." She handed him the bottle from the fridge. "What do I owe you?"

  
She waved him off. "If I'm going to get all up in your business then dinner's on me." She glanced at the clock on the stove. Shit, it was late, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd gone without sleep. "Do other people really have normal lives or is it all a big show?"

"I have no frame of reference."

She really needed to stop talking. "Sorry." She went back to the couch and stared at the ceiling. Tomorrow was gonna _suck_. "I tried so hard for so long to have a normal life but this is still where I ended up." A superhero for a brother, a weirdo vigilante for a drinking buddy, and an existential crisis. "I think I need to just close my eyes for a minute, I have work in a few hours…"


End file.
